


Flesh or Metal

by Raicho



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gunplay, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Inanimate Object Porn, M/M, Short One Shot, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicho/pseuds/Raicho
Summary: Every inch of that thing was just as much Rick as the fingers that dug into the tangled strands of Daryl’s hair.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm sad that Negan took Rick's python... (╥﹏╥)
> 
> Unbeta'd

            Polished metal gleamed beneath the golden rays of afternoon sunlight.

            Daryl licked his lips.

            “Open up.”

            A heavy weight settled atop the hunter’s tongue as he spread his lips with open invitation. A refreshing chill slithered its way down Daryl’s throat, spiking an adrenaline rush that flooded through his system. He could sense his pupils dilating as he stared up at intense blue eyes and curled blond hair.

            “Take care of it.” Rick’s southern drawl was slow and sugary like molasses as he pressed the metallic tip against the hunter’s salivating tongue, “Just like you always do for me.”

            Every inch of that thing was just as much Rick as the fingers that dug into the tangled strands of Daryl’s hair. From its cylinder down to its grips, the python was an extension of the man standing before Daryl, and he’d promised to worship every bit of that man each chance he got like a reverent acolyte attending his daily service.

            A moan escaped the hunter’s throat as his cheeks hollowed and he sucked down nearly all six inches of the stainless steel barrel.

            Daryl could see the slight thrust of Rick’s naked hips as his mouth began its work.

            “Keep it nice n’ clean for me.”

            Rick’s deep purr sent shivers down the hunter’s spine.

            His tongue poked into the muzzle, swirling around and sampling its lingering flavor of gunpowder and smoke. Daryl sucked and pulled and licked the damn thing like it was his favorite popsicle on a hot summer day. He’d done this same thing countless times before—would continue to do it countless times again if only to relish in the shameful warmth it left him with after each encounter.

            As he finished his chore, Daryl pulled back from the revolver with a wet ‘pop’. His spit dribbled from the tip of the gun’s muzzle, mirroring the hot drip of precum falling onto his cheek.

            “Always so good to me, Daryl.”

            Flesh or metal, Daryl would always welcome its intrusion.


End file.
